This Woman's Work (I'll stand outside)
by Greekgeekable
Summary: "Forever Eighteen doesn't that mean he's legal to vote now? I think you've got your facts wrong Stefan, your brother is an old ass adult." Dear Bonnie, I'm writing to you, because I request a favour from you. I once had an older brother, and now he's gone. I know where though, the fairies told me. Peter Pan Inspired.
1. Prolouge: Are You Happy?

**This woman's work (I'll stand outside)**

Prologue

Tell Me Are You Happy?

The rain slammed against the pavement of Mystic Falls. Collections of forming puddles were constantly upset by pairs of feet belonging to the small towns occupants; shielded by the umbrella her valiant companion had pulled out at the first sight of rhythmic pitter patter, Sheila Bennett felt a vague smile play on the corner of her lips.

He stared off into the distant, but the slight crease of his brow marred the illusion he'd worked so hard to construct: a white tee, jeans and Vans wearing teenager. Hunched under the umbrella he supported over their heads, the colour of youth return to his cheeks as he smiled down at her.

'So Sheila, how old is she now?'

Sheila bit her bottom lip. 'Seventeen, Eighteen next February.'

Stefan Salvatore nodded, and dogged several gazes from passers-by going the opposite direction. He dropped his blueish- green — turquoise— gaze to the ground whenever a woman ranging from college aged to their mid-forties, eyes appraised him with the same question: Why is a Seventeen year playing hooky? — And why was he with that old bird?

Sheila tightened her hold on his forearm as they crossed the road, the small heel of her shoes clopped against the wet pavement.

'Oh, well, it's a good thing I came back then … I'll give you a week Sheila ... a week to pitch the idea to her, and then...'

Sheila snorted derisively. 'Stefan, I already tried to tell her about her heritage and she was two hundred percent sure I was drunk, and making up some fantastical — and vaguely entertaining — story! So, if you expect her to believe me 'again' within a week...' she trailed off.

Stefan shook his head, with a strange smile fixed on his face and eyes that glistened with mischievous delight. 'I don't need her to believe completely. But entertaining the idea … that would be a start. All she'll need is a push. And I'm always happy to help.'

'That sounds an awful lot like this boy I used to know always willing to help absolute strangers.' Sheila said chuckling softly.

' Yeah well I'm sure that boy you knew was nothing like me – Hey! Wait a minute Sheila you're not a stranger you're the closest thing to a family I have...'

An indulgent smile spread across her lips. 'Hate to break it to you Stef, but I'll have to disagree with you there, I think you're forgetting about my grandbaby; but you come in close second.'

'Well hopefully that said granddaughter will think of me the same soon too,' he said with a wink. The spark in his eyes dulled for a moment, when he bit the inside of his cheek and said peevishly. 'You got that from him, didn't you? After all these years?' and ran his hand through his honey blond locks.

'He has a way with staying with you, even if he's not there. It's a powerful thing he taught me.'

'What, sarcasm?'

Sheila snorted with laughter.

They were on her street now, and the rain had died down a bit. Stefan pulled the umbrella away, and raised a hand to check the condition of the drizzle. He shut the umbrella, allowed small droplets to crash and roll down their faces.

'I think it'll finish in a bit.'

Sheila nodded, looking out from her porch to the wet street, or even further Stefan wasn't too sure.

'Stefan, that's not what he taught me.'

'Then what was it, how to dodge a question. He was once really good at that.'

Sheila sighed deeply. 'Honestly at this moment Stefan, you sound like the master of sarcasm,' and flicked her eyes back onto him.

Stefan seemed to squirm under her gaze, deep soulful brown eyes, and all.

Sheila rolled her eyes. 'No dummy.'

'Hey, do you know how weird that sounds coming from your mouth?'

'What, "dummy"? I suppose it might be a bit strange with me being a grandma, and you looking like a minor? But really Stefan, who's here to look at us?'

He shrugged and said, 'You got me there.'

Suddenly a glorious smile appeared on Sheila's face, a radiant ray of sunlight, Stefan refused to avoid. 'Do you remember when I was a young Philly, only sixteen years and then I met this boy called Stefan Salvatore, who promised me the world?'

'I vaguely remember something like that, tell me what happened with the both of you?" Stefan said, his eyes tinged with sadness.

'He invited me to go on this amazing adventure,' said Sheila, taking up his hand into hers. 'And that's when I met someone else, he was impulsive, childish, and mad, but I learnt a lot from him. Hope for one, how to believe in myself, and that I was powerful. When I came back the boy Stefan Salvatore who was still, and always will be my favourite! Found that I had grown up ... and knew I had to accept myself for who I was. Witch and all.'

'But what happened to Sheila Bennett and Stefan Salvatore! I'm curious," he murmured, and retuned her squeeze, before removing his hand from hers.

"She loved him, and loves him still. But realised she … she had to let him go.' Sheila answered; a small frown creased her brow.

Under her porch, protected from the rain, old woman and young man looked at each other. Stefan brushed his knuckles against her wrinkled cheek. He'd always hated, and would hate to see her upset. After all these years, sadness didn't look good on her pretty face and in those beautiful eyes. He slipped his fingers underneath her chin and nudged her chin up.

'I understand Sheila and I understood...' he dropped his hand, and took a step back.

'Maybe in another universe, another time, when there could have been you and me...' she muttered, and then she coughed loudly. She shook her head, and straightened her back. 'But I need you to do me a favour Stefan."

Stefan frowned.

'What, watch over your granddaughter?'

Sheila chuckled and shook her head. 'No, not that you idiot. We both knew you'd do that.' Stefan looked away from her; Sheila punched his shoulder softly, Stefan's eyes retuned to hers.

She was so old now, he thought. The lines on her pretty face, they were deep and full of memories of the times they'd spent together. The times they'd been apart. The times of when she'd met her husband. The day they'd gotten married. The day she'd found out she was pregnant. The day she'd given birth to Abby. To the day, Abby had left, but had also left her mother with a granddaughter to love.

'Let go. Please forget about me.'

Stefan jerked out of his reverie.

'Pardon?' he hissed. 'Sheila...'

"I mean," she said with a roll of her eyes, something he'd taught her many years ago, 'Let go of me. I want you to move on.'

Stefan frowned. 'Why?'

"I'm old Stef; I'm going to die soon… hey don't look like that, I don't have an immortal advantage like you.' She beamed; water droplets made her eyes shine. 'But you... you're immortal, and it would hurt to know you hadn't found happiness by the time I croak.'

He scowled at her.

'That's not funny.'

'I'm being realistic Stefan. My time is ending. And I have lived a good life. I enjoyed every moment of it. It is a good life. But I want to see you happy, heck have children. Go dancing in the rain. Find someone new to love! Please.'

'But...'he breathed, his blueish-green eyes pinned her with pain. He shook. He opened and closed his mouth. 'My heart... I don't know if I can do it again. My heart it was broken once and I thought you could fix that.'

She shook her head and smiled sadly at him.

'Maybe I was meant to remind you had a heart, and that it can be fixed. But Stefan I am not the one. I'm not your soul mate. So, let me go, and find her. Please that's all I ask.'

Stefan bit his lip, a pregnant pause filled the space between them, and he felt like a mountain was trying to push them apart, that mountain might have been called reason.

'I'm...'

'I know, but you're so strong too.'

He looked down before giving her a small nod.

'Thank you, Stefan.'

He gave her a weak smile.

'I'll visit her tomorrow at school. I can blend in,' he said stiffly, rubbing his smooth chin, an attempt to draw back to their previous conversation.

'Yes, I'm sure an old fart like you will manage to blend in very well. I suppose it will be different from when you found me; you'd been a Ripper before that, for so long, so your adjustment was rather good.'

'Again, not funny Sheila, don't joke about that.'

'Sorry, but I think you should make light of all events in life, even the mistakes, who said we were perfect anyway.' Sheila said with a childish shrug of her shoulders.

There she went, breaking him he thought. Giving him all that good advice. Stefan rolled his eyes.

'I also think you should bring Lexie with you into school. I'm not worried about you going Ripper, it's just that I think my baby would like her.'

'Really?' Stefan said.

'Yes, she's also better at human interactions than you,' she said with a wink. Stefan groaned.

'It was one – '

He was cut off by the front door opening, his eyes strayed to the figure at the door.

Petite, maybe somewhere around five foot two; she wore an oversized jumper and jeans, and fluffy slippers. Her long dark brown hair fell past her shoulders; oddly enough he'd never pictured her with glasses. But there they were, a pair of classic geek Clark Kent style sat on the ridge of her nose; he wasn't sure if they were a prescription or for fashion. She was as beautiful as Sheila had been, the first day they'd met.

Her brow rose as she said softly. 'Uh... hope I'm not interrupting anything?'

Sheila turned slowly to face the girl, with a smile; it was a wary thing Stefan had decided.

'No, this is just the son of an old friend of mine.' Sheila turned back to Stefan her smile fixed on her face, gesturing for him to come in. 'Who's come to visit me, I was wondering if he wanted some tea, biscuits.'

Stefan's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, man he loved Sheila's cooking, and while he lived off a steady diet of animals ... he couldn't resist the smell and taste of her fantastic cooking.

The girl stepped out of the way as they entered the passageway. Stefan felt her almond green eyes latch onto his back. He turned around and saw colour appear on the buds of her cheeks.

'It's nice to meet you,' she said extending her hand too him.

He took it, shook it and said. 'And you.'

'So, you're...'

'Stefan Salvatore and you are?'

'Bonnie Bennett.'

* * *

A/N: Hi guys! I am revamping this story I've got some encouragement to finish this off, and I am not averse to this; I've been super busy, but I like this idea and will try and finish the story.

Bamon endgame.

Please review, follow or Fave.

Thank you.

Greekgeekable.


	2. 1 The Boy Time Forgot

Chapter One

The Boy Who Time Forgot

"We are all going."

President William McKinley, ― John Green, Looking for Alaska

 **Stefan**

1857

"It is a fundamental piece of knowledge that everyone must grow up. Little boys grow into young dashing men, and little girls grow into stunning young women; waiting for said young man's courtship; though in truth those well versed in love knew the young man's true competitors for a lady's heart was between her heart and head… but that was fundamental of course… does not address this story right here. And why would it, when time forgot about one boy... but one thing is universally known if the universe wants something to happen, it finds a way." Taken from Stefan Salvatore's diary.

The last word Damon said to Stefan that night had been: 'Brother.'

"Brother?" Damon breathed, in the distant past.

Stefan looked up sharply, a contrast with his small sagging shoulders. His eyes fluttered in his fighting to stay awake. Stefan sat on the spare comfy chair placed next to their mother's reading chair. His brother was cold, frost personified. Damon sat on the floor legs crossed, palms rested on his thighs, and his gaze on the carpet, some areas were moth bitten. It was a boring brown trimmed carpet, embroidered with black patchwork. It was an awful thing, he'd personally thought, wretched, and tasteless. He shouldn't have been surprised how ever. Father picked it out, he thought to himself bitterly.

Father, who hasn't spoken, even looked at us after the... but Stefan couldn't bring himself to finish that thought, in danger of bringing up the memory, and that to was awful, but it was also sad. It created an ache in his heart... and he couldn't, no didn't want to feel it.

"Brother," said Damon softly.

Stefan flicked his blueish-green eyes to look at Damon, but all he presented to him was the crown of his head; a mop of raven black hair. Damon's long pale hands, he had always been pale, circled the awful carpet, his fingers at odd moments would pull roughly at the frayed ends pulling out woven strings of it. He wore a suit and so did Stefan... it was fitting for a funeral … that had taken place two hours ago. Two awful hours ago; a time where the brothers stood still, wearing pain filled expressions, clasping their hands behind their backs, with solemn demeanours surrounding them like a pungent stench. They hadn't spoken much, well not with the congregation around, just resting their eyes on the grave stone that read: Here lies Lillian Abrianna Joseph Salvatore. A Mother, A loving wife, and an Angel in human form, you will be missed.

They'd waited for everyone else to leave before speaking to the sum of dirt that had buried their mother. Stefan had tried to be strong and remind himself of the beautiful woman who had loved him and his brother, he was so sure, with all of her heart. Her startling blue eyes, Damon had inherited. Her tall willowy stature, her soft brown hair that almost looked black, curled down her chest, her warm smile, her tinkling laughter, instead of the corpse, no doubt rotting and decaying, no longer resembling the woman he once knew. She was empty and soulless now.

So the boy crouched down, lips pursed, a scowl fixed on his brow that sat unnaturally there, for a boy of his age should be smiling, wearing a smile of carefree, rather than the serious look that would follow him all his life and told his mother. "I love you," he'd thought she'd should be reminded of that. And he knew like any boy of ten, for children are incredibly smart, but hold a childlike awareness adults dismiss, however not Damon, as Damon was on the verge of manhood, seventeen, almost a man but still a child. "I will always love you, and you'll always be my mum. No one will ever replace you, Mother. I hope you're okay. I wish I could follow you, but you told us to be strong and keep going. So, I'll try, Damon and I will be okay. Okay mummy?..." he'd trailed to a stop then, unable to imagine her spirit listening to him anymore, because he'd wanted, demanded a response from someone he knew would never speak to him again. So he took a step back, and waited for his brother.

He'd stepped forward, and crouched down, a hand gently resting on the head stone. He looked older to Stefan, back hunched, eyes sunken, face gaunt. He'd run a hand through his mess of hair and said. "If I could Mother, I'd go wherever you have gone. But I can't... I can't leave Stefan... not with him," and bitterness laced his tone, when he spoke of their father, a dark ugly look curled Damon's handsome features. "But if I could turn back time, I would have made it so that the universe would have never taken you so young. You were meant to go when you saw your two boys with children of their own... surrounded by our little monsters and smiling... We need you mother, and I know in a sense you're free now, from him, and of this mortal life. But If I could... I know it's selfish, but I want you back, or find a way... a way for you and Stefan and I to be together. I love you. But so help me mother if there is a way ... I hope to find a way... and I know it might seem childish, but at this moment in time, I don't care, I want us to be together and I will..."

And then they had made their way to leave for there was nothing left for them, idealistically it was best for them to turn and go...go home, to the man who they both believed hated them both with every fibre of his being, who'd strike, slap them, once all the mourners had left, and respectfully given their dues.

Damon slipped his hand into Stefan's smaller stubbier hand, fingers weaving together. Both dressed similarly, in black tie, they began the long walk back to the house, when something caught his eye.

Maybe the reason Stefan had seen it first because he was younger, was because his imagination hadn't been squashed, or quelled by an adult's intellect, despite his tutor's best efforts. But he saw it none the less, a shimmer of gold. But not like the glint of sun flickering and licking on something shiny and reflecting back to him, to gain his attention. It was like a glowing dust a trail, lying on the ground.

What in the...

Stefan's footfalls came to a stop, his eyes straying to the dust trail. He began to tug on his brother's hand; he gave himself a moment to consider Damon's reaction to his observation.

Will he believe me or not.

But it was Damon, Damon his big brother, his friend.

"Brother..." Stefan began.

He looked up to his brother but was surprised to see his eyes fixed on the direction of the trail as well.

"I see... Stefan... I see..."

"Should we follow it?"

Damon bit his lip.

Their mother had always been a great believer in the mystique and the strange... she'd loved to read fairy tales, and legends of the past, Robin Hood and his marry men, or Nobel King Arthur and his men of the round table... of fairies and dragons...

They'd grown up with the idea that the aura of the unnatural was okay to embrace, but they had never exactly experienced the unnatural.

Damon nodded, his eyes shining a determined bold blue.

"Maybe it's a sign...as Mother would say... maybe it's the universe wanting us to acknowledge it, and see that it's mourning her too, and trying...trying to help us as well?" Damon said suggestively, and took his first tentative step forwards.

It hadn't occurred to Stefan to question his brother. Damon had been Seventeen that day, on the teetering age of manhood and childhood, no more man or boy, stuck in the in-between. So if he was in the in-between, it would come to reason, he shouldn't really be able to see the trail... but he could.

The trail wasn't long; it drew them into the cover of the tall trees, autumn leaves fell lazily down to the ground. Oranges and reds, mixing together, bringing an almost warm feeling to the breeze that tickled their cheeks.

The fairy was waiting for them. Stefan blinked at it, and his mouth pulled itself into a surprised O. Stefan stared at it, was it right to call it and It? He wanted to turn to Damon and voice his question to him. The Fairy leaned against the base of the tree, its hands crossed behind her back, and blinked at them expectantly.

It... It looked different, he'd decided. Not like Morgan Le Fray at all. His mother had said, Morgan was a beautiful woman of Fey ancestry, and had even gone so far to say she was descended from the first wife of Adam, Lilith, and gone even further to claim, that they, he and Damon as well as their mother were descendents of Arthur's half-sister, for that's why she was named Lillian, after her great, great ancestor. Morgan was meant, well, in Stefan's mind to look like his mother... so tall.

But the fairy in front of him was minuscule, and had, "Brother, she has wings," breathed Damon.

Stefan nodded slowly.

"They're pretty Brother."

Damon nodded his agreement.

They stared at the tiny creature, her huge eyes blinked up at them expectantly; her small leaved dress was woven around her small frame. All her features were small. Slim nose, bow like lips and small cat like eyes. She was beautiful. Not like some fairies, and how they were described. Some were said to be awful looking creatures, but her almost transparent wings flapped behind her following the winds current.

"Do you think it talks brother...? I mean... do you think it talks English?" voiced Stefan.

Damon shrugged.

"I'll see..." Stefan said nervously Stefan tried to slip his hand away from Damon's, but he was surprised and let out a small shout, when he felt Damon's hand tighten painfully. Stefan's head jerked up and his eyes locked with Damon's.

"You can't leave Brother... not today."

And Stefan's childlike mind could understand that, and nodded.

They walked together, careful levelled steps.

The fairy moved away from the tree and her eyes widened.

She smiled; a cat's smile, that cheeky smile, reserved to the Cheshire cat.

Stefan's eyes narrowed as he continued to observe the Fae.

"Um... do you speak?" said Stefan.

It frowned at him, crossed her arms over her chest, and then slowly cocked her head to the side, he tiny shoulders seemed to shrug, with the tack on of an eye roll.

"Did she just roll her eyes at me?" he hissed.

Damon laughed.

"I believe so, little brother," he said fondly, and used his spare hand to ruffle his hair.

Stefan scowled at the Fae, he hadn't managed to get a word from yet.

"Do you speak English?" he said, more specifically.

The fairy shrugged, still smirking.

Why are you smirking? How is anything I've asked you funny? Stefan asked himself.

Then the fairy as if sensing his annoyance, opened her mouth.

Stefan scowl faulted and was swiftly replaced when his face twisted into an awful mash up.

It was like an incessant clashing of tiny, clanging bells, or were they the chiming of triangles that should create beautiful music, but when dropped were awful.

Stefan pulled his hand roughly from Damon's and threw his hands to his ears.

Yes it was rude, but Stefan didn't care. His ears were the priority.

Moving his scrunched up face up to his brother, he was surprised to see his brother's smooth face. Damon's blue eyes blinked only a few times as he continued to fix his gaze on the Fae. Stefan blinked back shock once he relied through the gaps in his hands he could hear a muffled reply from his brother. The younger Salvatore's eyes widened and his brows disappeared into his hairline.

How are you speaking to her, brother?

While Damon's lips smoothly, glided over words Stefan couldn't make out their conversation plainly due to the fact, the boy refused point blank to listen to the Fae's awful voice.

Damon looked animated; something he hadn't looked since the doctor had given the brothers a forewarning of their mother's deteriorating condition. His glittering blue eyes, very much like crystals, or the blue of the sea when touched by the sun foreshadowed the ghost of the smile, which soon curled the corner of Damon's lip.

It was a sly thing, that their mother sometimes wore, and in that crocked smile, inside the right side of his lips was hidden a kiss. A kiss no one could gain. Stefan didn't think anyone had found his mother's kiss, or captured it. Not their father... maybe they had stolen it once, he and his brother but he couldn't be too sure, and he'd never know. Damon had that same hidden kiss too, and Stefan wondered who would steal it? Earn it. The amused flare of Damon's nose, the fullness of his cheeks, no longer appeared hollow, he looked alive once more while he interacted with the creature. Damon's hands moved in conjunction – rather energetically — with the nod he gave the Fae.

"Brother!"

Damon appeared to have finished when he stepped back to Stefan, and scooped down and picked Stefan up by surprise, the small boy's chest crashed against his brothers, and his eyes stared at the warm smile fixed on Damon's face. It wasn't huge smile that it reached his eyes, but it was a smile. It was infectious, and Stefan found himself smiling too. Toothily and wide, his hands still clamped against his ears.

He must have said it very loudly, because Damon winced: "What? What? We're you saying to it? "

Damon said even louder.

" You should move your hands from your ears too; the fairy has stopped talking."

Stefan shook his head stubbornly. "It might start again... so what were you saying to it?"

Stefan was facing the fairy as Damon began to walk back towards the house, leaving the little grove, and the trail of fairy dust.

"You... you spoke to it? How? Why couldn't I speak to it? Why are you so special? Did she tell you something about Mother?" said Stefan bombarding him with a myriad of questions

"Stef, still yelling!"

Stefan sheepishly moved his hands from his ears and wrapped them around Damon's neck.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

Stefan felt a rumble against his chest.

You're laughing Brother. You have not laughed like this in months...

"It is okay little brother. I'll tell you okay, when we're upstairs, at home, in the library, no one will mind us there. And here outside, I don't feel safe in the open space... okay?"

Stefan said: "Okay," and waited patiently.

* * *

Stefan continued to look at the top of Damon's head as he mumbled softly. "Brother... do you remember?"

"I hate it when you do that Brother…" Stefan heard the ghost of laugh in those words, and frowned at the crown of Damon's head.

"What?" breathed Damon softly, he finally raised his head up, his pulsing blue eyes bored into Stefan's with slightly annoyed eyes.

"You ask me something and forget to tell me what you're thinking... your minds already several sentences ahead of the conversation you've stared in your head and you seem to think I've automatically followed along with your mental conversation, little brother..."

Damon said with a sad smile.

"I do that quiet a lot, don't I?"

"Yes, just like —" he took a sharp intake of air," just like Mother," said Damon, finishing his sentence, in a soft tone. Damon drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He rested his chin on his knees and continued.

"Habit. Hmm I do remember I said I'd tell you—" then his voice lowered to a soft whisper, " the —um- fairy," Damon said and locked eyes with Stefan, an awful purple bruise kissed his under eye, it looked very painful. Huge, swollen and offsetting his ordinary handsome features, but all the same Damon smiled up at him.

"Does it hurt Brother, you didn't have to do that— get in father's way—I could have taken— "

Damon cut him off sharply. "I am the oldest; it is my duty like mother told me to protect you. That's what I will do... even if she is dead... you are my baby brother. You also shouldn't have to take it Stefan. You are a child. You should be loved and spoiled, not tortured and whipped especially after today— he is a bastard...coward for putting his hand on you," he said darkly.

"Damon," he tried again but then fell short of what to say, there was a light in those eyes, a light that shown up at Stefan and he could only describe it as hopeful. He and Damon hadn't, almost couldn't be hopeful after today, their own resource of happiness was gone, buried six feet under near on of her favourite oaks. While the boys would try and make jokes in an attempt to make the other smile, Stefan wasn't sure how huge their grin would be, how genuine it could be. All they had left really was each other...

"So what did you say Damon?" Stefan said carefully.

"I spoke to the fairy," he said in a matter of fact tone, as if it was common for seventeen-year-old boys to speak to things that were reserved for fiction.

Stefan nodded.

"It told me to wait at the window tonight, that it could help us with him," Damon said with a small smile.

"How?"

"The fairy said that they could scare him a bit, make him nicer, which I say is a fantastic idea. Whatever they do would be a blessing in disguise."

"They will not kill him will they?"

"Who father? I doubt it," Damon whispered in a dismissive tone. "They know even though he is horrible, we can't afford to lose him too, not so freshly after mother. I believe they will just scare him that is all."

"And—you, you believe her, it?"

Damon nodded frankly. "I do, and you should too. I am not making this up." Damon got to his feet, his long limbs stretching away from his chin, and he used his hands to push his body up, so that he could stand. He towered over him, and blinked serenely down at Stefan. "Of course I cannot be mad. I mean you saw her too. I don't think we were hallucinating when we both saw the same thing, that should be evidence enough."

"We are grieving, uh... mourning, as one of my tutors called it. Or our minds could very well be playing tricks on us, we might be making up that fairy's appearance because we need something amazing to hold onto—"

"Stefan wasn't it you, who told me early today you saw an angel, dressed in white who promised you everything would be okay, and I didn't question it—"

"But I am a child, Eleven this November... and you... your Seventeen. You are almost a man... believing in fairies. It's okay for me to believe in that angel—"

"You have your way of grieving, and I have my own. The Fairy told me to meet her by the window ceil in this library if you should know; she said she would help me, and you. Like William Blake wrote fairies truly do make an appearance at funerals. The universe or maybe mother sent her to me, like mother sent that angel to you? So I will put my faith in that fairy and meet her tonight. No matter what you say little brother."

Stefan's eyes began to skim the large library, their mother had always been a fan of books, and it had been the only thing their father had indulged her with in the early years of their marriage. It was rumoured by one of the servants, an aging woman, with fine white hair, long white lashes and a kind face, who'd been favoured by their mother in the months coming up to her death, and somewhat confirmed during her eulogy. In her healthier state however, their mother had once told him the story of the libraries' origin.

Their father had expanded the once grand library into something wider, and grander, and began filling the collection from old philosophers such as Plato, Aristotle, and Augustine; even works concerning Thomas Moore, even though their father personally wasn't one for religion. There was the fictional work of the controversial Mary Shelley Wollstonecraft hidden in one of the shelves, as well as Dante's Inferno, placed somewhere in the shelves, in its original Italian, which Damon could read fluently, something that brought pride to their father's frigid heart. Their mother apparently had fallen in love with the library, the white walls with golden artwork, and a large painting Stefan hated. But Stefan hadn't hated his mother; it had been common knowledge to find their mother in the library, sitting down with that kiss peaking out in the corner of her lips, as her eyes skimmed the words of the pages. Absorbed and fitting the stereotype of the wife to a rich man, and she had been beautiful.

Was, Stefan reminded himself sharply. Never forget the dead for they'd never forget you.

She'd sit next to a wide window, to allow the distraction of the sunlight when it was summer, or snowfall when it was winter to serve as an additional comfort next to that of her soft comfy chair.

"Brother," Stefan moaned.

But Damon shook his head. "Stef, I'm human... I need to believe in something. We might not be religious people, but humans inevitably need to believe in something— and if it's fairies for me, and angels for you to get through this little brother, then let me be." Damon turned from him, and swiftly walked away, to his room Stefan guessed.

Don't make us distant now, brother, not now. We have already lost mother, I can't —I cannot lose you too.

* * *

Stefan didn't see or speak to his brother for the rest of the day, and it hurt. It pained him like a knife being buried into his chest; it might sound like a bit of an exaggeration to many. But Damon Salvatore was his best friend. He would be the face when he died, next to his Mother that he'd remember. Siblings, he was sure thanks to his child-like intelligence, were inevitably linked forever, due to the small line that marked them as brothers, they might not resemble each other but no matter what he was his brother.

Stefan peeked his head out of his room, to hear his father bellowing for "Damon, come downstairs son, the guests are asking of you, you cannot become scarce at a time like this!"

Stefan watched from the crack in his door, Damon descend the staircase, Stefan fell to his hands and knees crawling to the passageway peaking threw the railings and watched his father and brother.

Damon towered over their father; looking down at him expectantly, with his hands behind his back, bruise still shining. "Yes father," his dark hair flopping over the side of his bruise in a failed attempt to conceal it.

"Why haven't you fixed that thing yet?" he said disgustedly.

Damon shrugged.

"Don't mock me boy," he growled.

Damon remained defiantly silent.

Their father had always had a short temper, and it seemed like Damon didn't even need to say anything to riyal they're father up because he slapped Damon sharply. Damon's face recoiled, his head snapping to the side, his hand resting on the purple bruise.

"Fix yourself before you come down here. You will find a maid to mend your wound and conceal it. Disgusting piece of filth."

They both turned around then, their Father moving back to the group of mourners and Damon turning to the staircase and taking it one at a time.

Once he reached the landing he spotted Stefan and smiled at him. It was an ugly thing, not because of his awful wound, and from what Stefan could see his father had cause a cut underneath Damon's eye, so blood was trickling at a slow paste down his cheek, to which his brother made no attempt to remove it or stop it's flow. His smile held all the bitterness and regret that had once appeared in one of their mother's smiles.

"Brother," he said with a curt nod before he disappeared into a room.

His brother disappeared that night, around mid-night when everyone in the house had fallen asleep. Stefan had staked-out next to his door, it was cracked open slightly. He heard his light footfalls first and watched his brother concealed by the darkness. Damon passed his room, and Stefan couldn't help but follow after his brother. Stefan knew his brother had never returned downstairs, the maid had told him his wound was too fresh for it to go down, so he had kept to himself.

Stefan slid out of his room and tried as best as he could to follow after his brother. Thankfully, the library was upstairs, because Stefan didn't know what he'd have done if they had to take the stairs. They glided across the landing, Stefan waiting for Damon to go into the library, and Stefan cautiously followed him.

Damon he saw, when the moon light flittered into the window panelling that sat in the roof of the library, was illuminated, and was bare foot, dust collected in the in between of his toes no doubt. He wore only his underwear, his bare chest exposed to the warm library air.

Stefan's brows were furrowed as he followed his brother.

 _Why, Brother?_

Damon reached the window their mother had most favoured, and gently pushed it open and sat on the floor and waited, and so Stefan waited too, sitting near a bookcase near enough to him.

They waited and waited, and Stefan's eyes began to flutter close. He was happy; because if the fairy wasn't coming then, it reaffirmed that the sight of it had been made up.

Stefan was about to get to his feet, when he saw the trail of golden dust sprinkle inside the room. Damon got expectantly to his feet, a smile on his handsome face, only slightly marred by the attack made by their father.

It wasn't just one fairy who entered the library but two, they flittered in, dust falling from their slim frames. They wore similar outfits too, leaves woven, one was green leaves and one was deep purple. Stefan's eyes widen when their mouths moved and he heard them speak.

"Damon Salvatore is it?" one twinkly voice said.

Damon nodded.

"Are you ready?"

"For what? You said I would be protected that you would help me and my Brother?"

"Are you ready to go with us? "

"Go where?"

"To the second star to the right... we can sense your heart... you wants... your needs young man. You have been abandoned by your Mother, hated by your Father ... we could take you somewhere new. Somewhere where you can be free from your pain..."

"Stefan..."

"Stefan could always come too," said the one in the purple leaved dress, she looked to Stefan and crooked her finger, beckoning him forward. Stefan boldly looked at the fairy and moved forward. Damon's eyes widened and he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

Stefan shrugged. "You're my Brother," he said easily.

"You two could live forever, be happy together," sang the one dressed in green.

"What would we have to do?"

"Brother," hissed Stefan.

Damon whirled to face him and scowled, his eyes glowing. "What Stefan," he said in a dangerous whisper. "What? Do you really want to live a life like this? With a Father who finds happiness in abusing us, me? "Damon shook his head. "To hell with it, little brother. I will not and cannot. We should have some faith in the universe in this grateful coincidence. I believe, because I deserve, we deserve to be free... happy. Like the fairy tales mother used to read to us."

You look so broken brother... so desperate... but this is real life...true and certain... real.

"Brother," Stefan moaned, taking a step back from the fairy floating in front of him, shaking his head. "No, Brother this doesn't feel right. We should stick to what we know... real life..."

Damon sent him a bitter look, and snarled. This wasn't his brother, his brother was always nice to him, why was he angry with him.

"Brother," Stefan moaned again.

"I want freedom." Then he said to the fairy in green. "What should I do, what do I have to do?"

The fairy smiled at him, and the purple leaved fairy flew to her side and their smiles mirrored each other.

"You've already done it Damon Salvatore. You believe in us, that's why you can hear us... just like your brother can now. So are you ready?" The green one said.

Damon sent one last fleeting look to his brother and said. "Are you coming or not?"

"Why?"

Damon smiled at him, a wondrous mile, a cheeky smile, a child-like fox smile. "As Francois Rabelais said, 'I go to seek a great perhaps,"

Stefan blinked at him. "We can find a perhaps in living, walking in Virginia," he moaned.

Damon shook his head. "We are trapped here."

He turned back to the fairies. "I'm ready... could Stefan come if he wants to when he is ready?"

The fairies nodded and then they began to circle Damon.

Damon was quiet as a golden dust cloud began to form around him.

Stefan moved closer, worry consuming him, when one of the fairies flew in front of him, blocking him. He wanted to swat it away, but the fairy used her magic when he tried to dodge passed her, and threw him against one of the bookcases. Stefan's frail body struggled to get to his feet.

Through hooded eyes, Stefan could hear his brother scream. "Brother!"

And Stefan's eyes almost fell closed when he saw the dust cloud seeming to lift Damon off his feet and pulling him through the window.

And Stefan's eyes fell shut.

* * *

Present day

Stefan Salvatore turned to Lexie Branson; she sat on his bed, wrapped in a towel, hair wrapped in a towel too. Her large hazel eyes followed him as Stefan pulled a bag from under his bed. They were in the Boarding House, and in his room.

'So he disappeared?' breathed Lexie.

'I lost my brother, the same day my mother was buried in the ground... and it hurt... I can't believe I never told you about it before,' he said casually, brushing dust from his jeans.

"Why do you sound so calm about it?"

Stefan shrugged, looking through the bag, seeing what was in there and wondering what school essentials he'd have to replace. 'Lexie, I'm over a hundred years old now. I have had the reward of time... it numbs away the pain in a way. I've had time to accept that I lost him. And I did lose him... because maybe if I had tried to convince him more, or begged him more he would have stayed with me...'

'But you didn't lose him. In a way, the way you tell it doesn't sound like you lost him, or he really wanted to go. He loved you.'

'and left me... like my mother.'

'I'm sorry...' Lexie said, in a small voice.

'For what? You didn't kidnap him... the uh... fairies did,' he grumbled, it was still hard to talk about them or acknowledge the existence of fairies.

'Not asking before, I've known you for a long time and never have I asked in detail. I assumed... I don't know... he died... but then I saw him didn't I, when we had a sleepover. That time we were trying to convince Sheila about her heritage... and him sitting on the window ceil. Kicking his feet back and forth, black hair, blue eyes, not looking a day over seventeen. Bare foot and only clothed with leaves, in the critical areas. I'd thought he was an eccentric vampire. But now he sounds like... it's funny to think about it...'

'What an immortal boy who never grew up. A boy who'd live forever.'

Lexie nodded.

'It sounds easier though, then turning into a vamp?'

Stefan shrugged. 'I think so... He told me one day, when he came to visit. He does visit... more now that I'm a vampire. He just appears there and boom stares at me with a smirk on his face.'

'So what's the price of it? We drink blood, have fangs and...'

'He has the Bennett line to look over,' Stefan said distractedly, he was looking for a pencil. 'Oh and throw on some clothes will you, we'll be going soon.'

'So what... what does this have to do with the Bennett's, why the hell are we going to school, school I may add I have never been to before, and made it my business never to attend.'

Stefan shrugged. 'The universe likes to balance consequences. We have blood and fangs. And he must help the Bennett line come into their own.'

'But why?'

Stefan shrugged again. 'I don't know he never told me and I never asked.'

'But you help him, help him convince the witches? Why?'

'The reason is always simple, Lexie. He's my brother; I hate him, and love him. Talk about brotherly love. Now hurry up, I have to make Bonnie feel comfortable so I can convince her it's okay to be a witch and supernatural. So that Damon can come pick her up from her room, and help her train...' Stefan said snappishly.

Lexie blinked at him.

'Okay...' she said slowly and pushed herself to her feet, getting ready for school.

Stefan was sure she wanted more answers to her numerous questions, but he couldn't promise he knew everything. And he too had questions as well.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long! But I needed a break. So I know Peter Pan came out in the early twentieth century and Lewis Carol's Alice in Wonderland incidentally came out in 1865, when the brother's turned. So for past/ Flashback scenes I will not reference the works.

You also heard season six reference from Stefan of an Angel, so yes I believe Lilly is alive.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for the support.

P.S. Knocking in Heaven's door's will be updated this week.

Please comment, Follow or Fave.

Greekgeekable.


	3. 2 Impulse

Chapter Two

Impulse

"I go to seek a Great Perhaps."

― François Rabelais

"I can't tell you much about the correlation between love and youth. I'm not that versed in the knowledge. I'm afraid to inform you I have failed in the art of love; I thought I was in love once... but maybe I was deceiving myself... but that doesn't mean I don't have hope. It is always important to have hope."

Taken from Stefan Salvatore's Diary.

Damon

Stefan Salvatore might have had a plan to ease Bonnie into her precarious situation, but Damon in turn had a plan. You see Damon had stopped ageing at the age of eighteen. The fairies had kindly informed him so. He was leanly muscled by the eighties when he had met his last Bennett charge, a Miss Abigail Bennett. His dark hair was always maintained in a short dark style, cut in a certain way to emphasise his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. If fairies used their petite frame, charming tinkling voices and beautiful faces as a trap, then he in turn had learned to do the same with his most favourable asset. He was tall, but not over six foot, but all these pieces of information concluded that Damon Salvatore was a handsome youth, and that's what he was, an eternal youth. As well as being handsome, Damon Salvatore was impulsive.

Unknown to Stefan, who'd, planned the next day to speak to Bonnie. Damon Salvatore had already 'kidnapped.'— no, 'ambushed?"— no that wasn't the right word? 'Commandeered?' He'd settle for a word sooner or later... Bonnie Bennett by the evening of Stefan and Bonnie's first meeting.

The thing Damon had realised about his brother was that sometimes Stefan was very slow. Stefan who was biologically seven years younger than him, had fallen in love twice, sold his soul for immortality to become a Vampire so he could catch up with him, had never been very smart, Damon thought retrospectively.

Damon was lying on Sheila Bennett's rooftop, one leg crossed over the other slightly elevated foot. He was hidden by the help of a thick willow tree's branches that draped over the roof of the house. Damon had been lying under the tree for hours. He'd laid under the tree when Sheila had given birth to Abby Bennett, when Abby had left the letter to her mother explaining how she wasn't good enough to have a daughter like Bonnie, and didn't deserve to care for such a precious girl. He'd lain there through all Abby's birthdays, and Bonnie's too, even lay on the roof when Bonnie had been born right under the roof. So the roof for him was a very special place.

Damon had lain on the roof for the last two weeks, just listening. He'd heard Bonnie Bennett, the next Bennett witch he had to watch over come into the house, because her father was going away for a couple of days and she had to have a supervisor. He also heard Bonnie moan half-heartedly about forgetting her contact lenses at home, and having to wear her dorky Clark Kent styled glasses. He'd also smelt the tempting aroma of Sheila Bennett's cooking. It'd been a challenge for him to stay in his well placed hiding place and not knock with great enthusiasm on the door and ask to be let in. But he continued to be strong. He'd been half grateful, because during one meal, Sheila had brought up the subject of Witches and their connection with the Bennett line.

He could remember the conversation between the two perfectly.

'Grams will you please pass the salt?' Bonnie asked softly. He had realised she had a cool, smooth, sexy voice. It wasn't sweet and quirky in a sense but tough and sure. He'd listened more eagerly so he could hear her swirl certain letters like her 'P's' and hear the dip of her voice.

'No Bonnie, you've had enough. You have to be careful about that habit; you've added extra sugar on your pancakes this morning too. I know the two are not the same thing but sugar and salt can both have an effect, which can both lead to one thing, an early death.'

Bonnie however had lightly shrugged her off. 'Grams, I'm fine. I got these young bones and blood for a reason. And I won't die early, it's not like I smoke, take drugs or anything and Grams, these aren't chips you've cooked. It's my rice; I just want a bit more. I swear I'm not on a mission to off myself.'

Sheila's gravelly voice, he'd had the pleasure of indulging in for a long period of time, huffed in a familiar way, she wasn't giving up exactly, but she was willing to move on to another point. He smiled fondly at the sound.

His arms had been crossed behind his head, like they always were, and his eyes was following the distractions in the sky, need that be the birds flying around or the travel of the clouds.

'Okay, let's leave my paranoid thoughts to the side shall we. Bonnie I haven't told you this already but I am very happy you've come to stay with me, instead of bunking at Elena's or Caroline's,' she said softly.

'Well Grams, what kind of granddaughter would I be if I left you alone? I love spending time with you and hearing about your stories. No one can say they aren't imaginative or creative.'

Damon's lips had curved into a smirk then, he'd had the chance to hear some of her stories, they'd been stylised versions of their adventures and her learning to hone her witch powers. While Sheila had chosen not to be fully honest in her recount, he however could remember the mess they got into. Sometimes his laughter had mingled with Bonnie's when they heard the stories.

'My stories, hum?' Sheila had said thoughtfully, he heard her scrape her fork against the plate, maybe bringing a piece of food to her mouth.

'Yeah, like how you went to DC, and you and the guy you were once so in love with before you met Grandpa of course, went to see Martin Luther King's speech, or how you went with a friend, to Egypt, to explore the tombs?' she sounded so full of life Damon had acknowledged her excitement dripping off her words like warm honey, sweet and delightful.

'Good stories aren't they? You know you're mum had stories too, and your great Grams and your great great Grams. It's nice to have stories Bonnie. But wouldn't it be nice to have stories of your own? I know we've talked about it before, but I do still have my contact who could help you create wonderful, amazing zany stories to tell your children and your grandchildren too?'

There was a pregnant pause in the house. Damon could feel the lick of the wind up his bare ankles and felt it creeping in-between his toes and hear the odd bird squawk.

'And this contact of yours can help me accept myself more. Help me to understand the amazing gifts, we as a family have been gifted with?' Bonnie's voice had come out in a forced sweet tone, which sounded sickening to Damon's ears. 'I mean it's how you were able to go to all those amazing places because of your contact—'

'And son?' Sheila had interjected.

Damon knew she'd been lying, Damon had no children, and he only had fairies really... and his lost boys. So he'd supposed he did have associates.

'It's kind of like a business...'

'A business that specialises in Witches?' said Bonnie sceptically; Damon could imagine her eyeing her grandmother with a scathing look. 'a business who only specialises in the Bennett Witches. With such a small clientele they can't have much money?'

'They are very well off, think of it like a scholarship.' Sheila said airily, he could hear her faint amused chuckle.

Bonnie seemed to have had enough, as she pushed herself violently from the table, he heard the chairs feet scraping against the wooden floor.

'Enough Grams... please... you know you're stories are cool and everything. But enough of this Witch business— and don't bring up you're contact being some immortal boy who takes you around the world and travels through time to help you become a witch; because out of all your stories that is the craziest of ones. You've tried to bring up the Witch thing so many things over the years! And sometimes I tried to say you had too much to drink. But nope — right now you're sober. I've checked. So your story, It might have worked when I was younger but no! No more!'

Sheila had responded in a calm tone. 'You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink.'

'And what's that supposed to mean?' Bonnie had said back hotly.

'Nothing Bonnie, clearly like all things I say,' Sheila had said in a cool tone. Damon had learnt that when Sheila became mad, she did not shout she became colder.

'Grams—' Bonnie's tone shifted to an almost pleading one.

Sheila had remained quiet.

Damon had heard Bonnie storming up the staircase after that.

Sheila and Bonnie had managed to repair that argument after a few days. But it had made Damon very aware of how Anti-Witch Bonnie was, and that to get Bonnie on board he had to break away at her practical nature. Damon had sat on that roof that belonged to Sheila Bennett for many reasons; he had two very important ones of course. One, so he could see how his friend was doing, and the other was to see Bonnie Bennett grow up.

He'd watched Bonnie grow up, and continued too. He watched her even then the night he took her away with him. He watched the way she pulled her long curly hair up into a messy ponytail, watched her clean her glasses. Watched her charming smile curl on her beautiful lips. Watched her expressive green eyes observe the word. Watched as she allowed herself to pursue a relationship with several people in the town of Mystic Falls.

Bonnie was getting ready for bed, on the phone to her friends, Caroline Forbes and Elena Gilbert.

'So Jeremy was wondering why you aren't picking up his call?' began Elena, at least it sounded like her voice.

He heard her sigh. It was dark out and in the shadows of the darkness, Damon had slid off the roof, and floated outside her window to get a better look at Bonnie.

Bonnie sat on the spare bed her Grams had given her. Bonnie was fiddling with the fringe of her bedcovers as she opened her mouth to reply to Elena, when he head Caroline say hotly down the phone.

'Don't Elena. Don't go capering for him. He fucked up. He should be on the phone calling her incessantly, trying to apologise instead of having you on the phone and acting like a coward.'

Damon wasn't entirely caught up with the drama going on in Bonnie Bennett's life, because he didn't live his whole life following her, sometimes he did go and see his younger brother, and even then he had to go home too, and speak to the fairies. But he had got to know or rather assumed he knew what Caroline Forbes was like.

She was blonde, pretty in that classic way, with delicate features and an almost all American girl way about her, but then she said things like that, that made him chuckle low under his breath. Caroline in the simplest of ways had a mouth on her. She spoke with her heart more than a tactical brain, he thought Bonnie favoured. He was sure Caroline would fill him in on all the details. He presumed he'd missed something while they were at school.

'He knows he could apologise to Bonnie. Even though that will probably do nothing now. How can he expect her to forgive him though! He cheated. Let me repeat that again for anyone who didn't catch that the first time. Cheated on her!'

Damon's eyes narrowed as he watched Bonnie squirm on her bed. He wanted to bust down the windows and pull her into a hug, somehow make her smile. He frowned however not entirely sure if he knew how to make her smile. The problem for him was simple; he'd never really spoken to her. He'd observed her yes, but he didn't really ... well, know her.

'Jeremy, was drunk Caroline—' Elena tried to argue.

Damon felt bile rolling up in his mouth. No pun intended but Elena left a foul taste in his mouth. He'd observed Elena as much as he'd observed Caroline or Bonnie.

Initially he'd been shocked when he'd seen her uncanny resemblance with Katherine Pierce, a woman his brother had been well acquainted with... well to put it mildly. She'd intrigued him as much as Bonnie had. She was nice, and caring. But not when it came to Bonnie, he'd come to realise, and now was a perfect example.

'Drunk! That's not an excuse Elena,' Caroline chided over the phone. 'And what the hell is a fifteen year old doing getting pissed at a party! — Look even if I was pissed I'd know not to kiss my ex-girlfriend. Don't defend him just because he's your brother.'

'Caroline, we weren't there... And Jeremy said—'

'Keep talking Elena, you're doing a stellar job. A plus right there for upholding the girl code. Bonnie's in pain—'

'Well if Bonnie had told me also what had happened, before she dumped my brother! Then maybe I wouldn't be on his side!'

'Girl code Elena, be objective would you! Honestly! —Bonnie, sorry I'm being such a blubber mouth and not even letting you talk or defend yourself.'

Bonnie chuckled softly into the phone. Damon felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

God, what a sexy laugh.

'It's okay super Caroline. You're doing a wonderful job, as always. Always in my batting cage you are,' she began fondly. Bonnie had stopped squirming and sat stiffly. Her eyes behind her glasses hardened and she said directing her words to Elena.

'Elena, you're right I didn't tell you immediately... and I didn't tell Caroline either, or Matt. Some other kids saw it too, him kissing her, and probably put two and two together and started guessing and spreading the rumour. Anyway let's remember I was breaking up with Jeremy, because it was a relationship between two people. He cheated on me; I'm not standing for it. It's done.' Bonnie said with finality.

'Bonnie, just talk to him. You broke up with him... from what he tells me without you telling him a thing.'

'I'm sorry Elena; he doesn't remember macking on Anna yesterday at Vikki's party. But I do so...'

'Bonnie please. Just do it, and not for him. But for yourself. Closure, talking about it, will make it better. I'm sorry Bonnie, I didn't know the whole story...'

Bonnie bit her lip, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, before she said, 'Fine.' Bitingly.

Caroline said she'd click off, but Bonnie could call her if she'd like for support, she didn't even bother to say goodnight to Elena.

Damon watched Bonnie breathing in and out as if preparing herself for a marathon, as he guessed Elena was exchanging the phone with her brother, who Damon had decided not to like.

He heard Jeremy's voice immediately, and watched the effect he had on Bonnie's small frame. She stiffened, her neck rising higher, taller and prouder, her cheek denting in on itself, as if she chewed it in displeasure.

'Bonnie?' Jeremy breathed.

'What Jeremy,' she said coldly.

He was happy to see her eyes were hard chips of coal.

'Bonnie come on, don't act like that... you know I didn't mean to kiss Anna. You know it's only you I love. I love you Bonnie, I didn't mean to hurt—'

'Blah, blah Jeremy. Do you know what you sound like? You sound like one of those corny dramas. The ones were the girls meant to immediately forgive her sleazy boyfriend because he loves her. Jeremy, just don't. Word's are cheap and actions speak a hundred times louder! You kissed her you creep! Kissed her! You couldn't have been that inebriated that you couldn't tell the two of us apart. Or can't you remember I'm the one with brown hair, green eyes and a killer smile.' Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

'Bonnie, I don't love—'

" You sure about that. Doesn't seem like you love either of us too much since I saw you kissing her. And that's okay, if you don't love me enough to respect me Jeremy. Because I love me... or I'll learn too. And I know there are other people who love me. So it's okay. We don't have to be together. If we can't make each other happy... it'll be okay.'

Damon placed his hand on her window, watching her lip tremble, and her eyes cloud. He frowned, it would be okay, he thought, she was strong. Stronger than Jeremy stupid Gilbert hurting her. He knew from past experience.

'Bonnie It was a mistake—'

'Mistake or not, you've hurt me. I came looking for you and found you with her. So I'm done, and now you know why I'm breaking up with you. Goodbye Jeremy.'

And before he could say anything Bonnie clicked the phone off, and she flopped on her back, her body bouncing slightly as she hit the springs of the bed.

Damon could hear her pitched breathing; hear the tears rolling down her face. He could feel her shaking, he felt her pain, and she slowly rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around herself.

There had been only one other time he'd wanted to push open the windows of her room and pull her into a hug, rocking her back and forth and reassure her it would be okay; the day her mum had left.

The day she had to grow up, grow up and have her teachers be pain and anguish. Damon shook his head, his blue eyes flickered a vibrant blue like the sea when the sunlight reflected of it. He couldn't allow that to happen... not again.

Light footsteps pressed against the carpeted bedroom. His eyes roamed the room with calmness. It was a big room he supposed, painted with blues and soft purples. A vanity table to the left of the open window, he'd pried open to allow himself inside. There was also a set of draws sat besides the vanity table. He saw also a wardrobe probably built into the room. Her bed was pushed against the wall, her body facing the moonlight that filtered inside the room.

He approached slowly, cautiously; his blue eyes skimmed her slender frame lying on top of her bed set. Her dark brows were furrowed as she cried. Her caramel skin looked so smooth, he wanted to touch her, but he didn't want to scare her too. He reached her bedside, and tilted his head to the side almost like he was observing a rare species of bird.

He scowled down at her. In an attempt not to touch her, he felt his feet leave the floor as he hovered next to her bedside; he moved to float above her to get a proper look at her. His long fingers brushed at a strand of her hair, he couldn't help it, there were tears running down her face.

His soft fingers scooped up her tears and he scowled down at the liquid on his fingertips. She should never cry, all he should ever see from her is her beautiful smile.

He did not like this one bit, not at all, and had come to a decision.

I have to make her happy, laugh, anything.

Damon needed to get her attention, so he began poking her softly. He poked her foot, side, forehead, and cheek, said: 'Hey.'

But she seemed too consumed in her misery.

'Girl,' he said.

'Huh?'

Progress, she's stopped crying, good.

'Girl? Why are you crying,' he said a bit louder even though he knew w her name of course.

Bonnie rolled onto her back, and slowly opened her eyes. Blinking water droplets that clung to her long dark lashes away, she asked confusedly: ' What?'

She blinked once, she blinked twice, and then she began screaming.

Well, Damon thought thoughtfully, he floated higher giving her enough room to scramble off her bed, fall, recover, get to her feet, and attempt to pick the heaviest object in her room to collide with his skull. Incidentally that object happened to be a hard book edition of Pride and Prejudice.

Damon dodged it but his hand drew back behind him and caught it. He liked books and when he was younger he had actually read some Austen. He held the book and stared at the dust jacket.

'Hey respect to Darcy and Bennett, uh Bennett...' he said slowly, looking from the book down to Bonnie, who was now holding the lamp that'd sat on her bed side table.

'Who the hell are you?' she hissed softly.

Damon stared at her, book in hand, and bit his lip. He realised two things, he was floating slightly, his feet barely touching the floor, and her eyes had strayed down to his feet. And the second thing, was Bonnie was not appropriately dressed, she was in her underwear, she'd been in all fairness getting ready for bed, before she picked up the call between Caroline and Elena.

Damon's head tilted to the side, as his eyes scanned her shapely legs up to her boxer style pants, to her bra that cupped her boobs, and stopped on her flushed face. He wasn't sure if it was a combination of annoyance or embarrassment.

The leer that slowly appeared on his face took full realisation once he'd gotten a good look at her, and even when she threw her lamp at him. He caught it easily and smirked at her.

' I thought you would be a better pitcher Bennett,' he said tutting loudly, shaking his head in disappointment.

She snapped. 'Now is not the time to have a conversation. Get the hell out you creeper, and hey what are you staring at were you a vulture in a past life. Turn round and get the hell out, before I call the cops on you!'

Damon blinked at her, tilting his head to the side, he continued to look at her near naked form.

'Why would I leave and not admire that killer body of yours, I mean woah.' He said, through hooded eyes.

Damon had been in many breathy, heavy, heady situation-ships, he wasn't sure if relationships were the right words. But he did know, his external appearance got him what he wanted. Bonnie who was out of things to throw at him besides her pillow, but she must have thought that was a useless weapon. Stormed up to him, stopped a moment, trying to comprehend him floating, must have ignored the elephant in the room, and kicked him hard in his balls.

Immortal or not, that hurt like hell. Damon dropped the lamp and book on the floor, and fell to his knees, his legs crashed to the floor. His head bent as if in prayer and groaned loudly.

Bonnie groaned loudly too but for a different reason, and said bitingly. 'Hey that's one of my favourite books! Be careful with that!' He felt her step over him and pick up her book, and looked back at him, her cold eyes raked his crippled form.

Damon bit his lip and sent her a petulant look at her with an accompanied hiss: 'You're mean.'

'And you're a stalker. Glad that's been established. Now get out,' she moved to her bedside table, and leaned over her bed to pick up her phone. 'You got six seconds buddy, or I'll kick your ass.'

'Try it Clarket Kent Jr, and I'll chuck you out the window,' and he meant it too.

Stefan, who'd tried to keep Damon integrated with the modern advancement of society, had given Damon several books, comic books, and whenever he visited and forced him to understand the creation of electricity, the television, movies and superheroes.

'You wouldn't dare,' Bonnie said darkly, threateningly holding her phone up.

Damon rolled onto his back and breathed in harshly. He was sure Sheila could hear him, and could guess it was him causing the commotion. Sheila usually cast a spell to check who was in the house and whose presence was a welcomed one or not.

'Go on, go and call them then, but then I'll fly the hell out so—' he said smugly.

Bonnie stepped closer to him and bent down, while she wasn't floating she placed her face so close to his, he could see some remnants of tears clinging to her lashes.

'Fly? What are you four or crazy?"

"Neither, I'm eighteen I'll have you know,' he said spitefully, he threw his hands over his chest and frowned at her defiantly.

'Get the hell out!' she shouted, she was about to place her arm under his armpit to pull him up, when he jumped to his feet and floated above her and glared at her savagely.

'Hey, don't touch me, Bennett. Geez, your cooties could kill me!'

'Cooties?' Bonnie said.

'Yeah, you know the kind of things none believers like you have.'

Bonnie had jumped and moved to her window, holding up her book and pointed it at him. 'You... you shouldn't be doing that. I thought the first time I saw you; I was going crazy because I was upset! But you're flying! Fly—'

'Hey quit yelling would you!' Damon flew to her, his hand placed on her mouth.

Her eyes bugged wide and her nose flared in anger, Damon could only guess she was upset with him. Oh well, she should stop shouting, geez, didn't she know this was a house.

He shook his head at her.

'Manners Bennet,' he said chidingly at her.

She glowered at him, and then he felt something warm and wet slide against his palm.

His face curled in disgust but he shrugged. 'I have a brother, I'm good.'

She frowned at him and tried to use her eyes to tell him to 'Get off me,'

Damon smiled evilly at her.

He felt her teeth digging into his palm, he winced and snapped. 'If you bite me, I'll bite you then that must be an invitation.' He said, revealing his stunning teeth. He watched her eyes widened in fear.

Damon couldn't help it, he began sniggering, he'd never seen anyone so floppy bunny rabbit scared in his life. He let go of her and began laughing. Heartily and loudly. He began floating, moving higher away from the ground as he continued to laugh. He could see her perplexed expression.

Even though she was being annoying, and was angry at him, at least she wasn't thinking of her jerkwad of a boyfriend.

Until he stopped abruptly, his eyes closed in on the book in her hand; he flew back to her side, and slid the book from her fingers.

'You like this?' he said waving Pride and Prejudice at her.

Bonnie blinked at him; she opened and then closed her mouth, and then opened it again.

She nodded slowly. 'Yes I do.'

'It's a classic I hear...well that's what I hear?'

'Really?' she said sounding curious.

'Yeah my brother told me so... so...uh... why are you looking at me like that,'

Bonnie's lips were slightly parted; her eyes behind her glasses looked bright and amused.

'Why are you here?'

Damon shrugged and said as if it was obvious. 'You were crying.'

'What?'

'Are you deaf, should I get you some cotton buds—I can get some from the bathroom for you—' he said, moving to the door.

Bonnie grabbed his hand, he turned sharply to face her, and jerked his hand from hers, and waited for her expectantly.

'I'm not deaf,' she hissed.

He smiled at her.

'Good to hear then; but why are you mad at me?' he said, he swore he could see her cheeks heating up.

'Shut up! I thought you were here to— I don't know attack me—but what do you mean you saw me crying?'

Damon shrugged and rolled his eyes and said in a tone that suggested it should be obvious. He began to float to the floor and stand in front of her.

'You came into your room getting ready to sleep. No I'm not a creeper. But when I saw you earlier today you looked a bit upset. So I only came down to check on you when I heard you talking to your friends and you sounded upset, and because you sounded upset I wanted to see if you'd be okay. But you were upset and I wanted to stop you from feeling upset because of your dick boyfriend who cheated on you. But it's when you were crying that's when I made my resolution to come check on you. I didn't expect to be attacked by you!' he said heatedly, he realised as he spoke his voice was rising in indignation. 'Honestly you try and do nice things for people and—'

'You're weird.' She breathed.

'You're weird.' He snapped back.

They glared at each other, before Bonnie said slowly. 'Who are you?'

Damon beamed at her; he gave her a swift bow and a charming smile up at her. 'I am Damon Salvatore; I know you're grandmother, Sheila Bennett... I also think you might have met my brother? Stefan?'

Bonnie blinked at him and then said, 'You know my Grams?'

'Yeah, I've known her for years,' he said dismissively. 'We went to Egypt to go tomb searching ... we've done a lot... had a lot of adventures.'

'I thought...'

'You thought I was a story? Sorry Bennett, I happen to be real. Look I want to invite you out, let's call it a taster course. So you're upset, give me tonight, and just tonight to make you laugh, to enjoy yourself, maybe even forget about your crappy boyfriend. So I'm a traveller of sorts, and I'm giving you the very exclusive chance to enjoy life to the fullest.' He took a step closer to her, ignoring the concept of personal space.

His lashes fluttered as he stared down at her. 'I've got you Bonnie. You're intrigued and you've got nothing to lose...'

'You're impossible... clearly this is just a dream... maybe my guilt about Grams the other day is making me feel like crap.'

'I'm not a dream Bonnie,' he said softly, his hand cupping her cheek. 'I'm real Bennett.' Blue eyes locked with Green.

'Just tonight?' he breathed softly to her.

Bonnie blinked.

'That's not gonna work buddy, your low voice and blue eyes aren't going to work.'

Damon frowned at her.

'I've given you options? My charms and persuasion must be doing something?'

'Damon,' she said.

Damon groaned. 'You can't say I didn't try? You're so closed minded Bennett, you see me flying and you do not believe me. Fine, fine. You've left me with no choice.'

Damon, who was still holding the book in one hand, bent down with his spare hand, wrapped his hand around Bonnie's waist and threw her over his back.

Clamping his hands over her back, he'd decided, he was going to accomplish his goal. He'd make her happy, and if he had to kidnap her so be it!

'You haven't even told me even where were going. You're a terrible salesman.'

'Sometimes I'm better at showing then telling!'

'Put me down Damon!'

'Hell no Bennett, you're mine tonight.'

* * *

A/N: Damon will do more explaining in the next chapter and be very clear about what is going on. Yes he kidnapped her. Remember Damon is an immortal boy so he might be more childish then he seems. He and Bonnie have gotten off to a bad start but then they are endgame.

Greekgeekable.


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